Charlie
by TheTinyWriter
Summary: Sherlock is in need of a new Flatmate and John knows the exact person for the job. Follow the twists and turns as Sherlock and his new flatmate, Charlie Abernale, hunt down a mysterious murderer.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's finally here! You guys have no idea how excited I am to finally be back and with a plot line that I'm happy with and positive that I can see through to the end. To all of you who have stuck around with me, I give you my thanks, love, and a metaphorical cookie.

I plan to try and update at least once a week, most likely on saturday.

Thanks to all and enjoy!

(Rated M for language, violence, and some suggestive themes.)

* * *

Bursting from the dark shadows of the night, a large black SUV screeched out on to the street, it's wheels squealing and fighting to keep the vehicle upright. Inside, a squad of heavily armed SWAT sat tensely in the seats, a squat man sitting nervously amongst them, his once clean and pressed suit now disheveled and stained with sweat.

"Hurry up," the man squawked, "they're going to catch us!"

The driver grunted and told him to shut up.

"You didn't see what I saw! It was _one person!_ " the man continued, "They came out of the shadows like a fucking ghost! Beheaded every single one of my guards before they even had a chance to react."

"I said shut up!" the driver said who was also leader of the SWAT unit, "They're not going to get you...once we get you off of American soil you'll be safe."

The man quieted down, but he still glanced out of the car window nervously.

Twelve tension filled minutes passed by, each member of the squad stiffening as they passed a car on the road, only to relax once they had left it far behind. Soon, they could all see the lights of the private airport twinkling in the distance.

"Thank god," the man whimpered when he saw the airstrip growing closer.

The SUV slowed as it neared a set of gates. The driver rolled down the window and spoke to the guard who had just stepped out of the guard station. Several other guards surrounded the SUV, checking over the entire vehicle. Once their inspection was complete, the guard gave a nod and the gates swung open. The driver floored the gas and sped down the designated road and towards the waiting jet.

Despite his escape being so close, the squat little man still looked around nervously, expecting something to jump out of the shadows at any moment. When the SUV rolled to a stop next to the jet, the man let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The driver turned to the man with a triumphant grin, "See? What'd I tell you? Ain't nobody gonna get you while-"

The SUV was tossed a few feet off the ground as the jet it sat next to suddenly exploded. It landed with a crunch on it's side, broken glass and shards of metal flying everywhere. The man yelled in terror as he was tossed from his seat only to land on the bodies of the soldiers who had been killed immediately by flying shrapnel.

He clutched his shoulder and groaned at the pain, a hint of blood making it's way through his hair and down his forehead. The man looked over at the driver who had been saved by his helmet from stray pieces of twisted metal embedding itself into his skull. Shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, the driver unbuckled himself and began trying to pull himself out.

Before he got very far, the passenger side door, now facing the sky, was ripped open and a pair of hands reached in and yanked him out, tossing him to the side with a yell of panic. A hooded figure dressed all in black then dropped into the SUV. They looked around and stopped when their eyes fell on him.

"No," he said, panic rising in his throat, "No, no, _no, no,_ _nonononononononoNO!_ "

The hooded figure lunged forward and grabbed him, dragging him forward and out of the SUV where they dropped him ungracefully on the ground. Immediately, the man began to scramble away. Before he managed to get too far, a gunshot resounded through the night, leaving a red and gaping wound in the man's upper thigh. Howling in pain, the man rolled to his side, clutching his leg in hopes of stopping any bleeding.

He watched in horror as the hooded figure stalked towards him, a gun clutched in their gloved hand. With the gun trained on his head, the man begged and pleaded for the hooded figure to spare his life.

All of a sudden, the hooded figure sprang to the side, narrowly avoiding a blow from a twisted pipe aimed at their head. The driver, whom the man had automatically assumed dead, stood there with the blunt object held tightly in his hands. With a chuckle, he tossed it to the side and picked up an automatic rifle from the hands of his fallen comrade.

"To think…" the driver said with a tone of mocking disbelief as he looked the hooded figure up and down, "...that the hitman everyone is _so damn afraid of_ , is nothing more than a pathetic pipsqueak!"

Now that he had mentioned it, the more the man looked at the hooded figure intent on killing him, the more he realized how small and dainty the killer actually was. He had no doubt that if the hooded figure didn't shoot him, he could easily wrap almost his whole arm around their tiny waist. And compared to the driver, the assassin barely came up to his armpits.

But the man knew better than to judge them by their size, he had seen the killer take out all four of his bodyguards as if it was child's play.

The footsteps of guards could be heard as they rushed over to the scene. In a matter of moments, twelve guards, the three surviving SWAT members, and the driver, all surrounded the hooded figure with their guns trained on the hood that kept the renegades identity hidden.

"What're you gonna do now, asshole?" The driver goaded, "Hm?"

He sauntered forward, overly confident now that he had the bastard cornered.

"How about before we kill you, we finally take a look at who's under that hood?" the driver said, snatching the hooded figures gun and sliding it away across the pavement where one of his SWAT members grabbed it. The entire time, the contract killer remained completely motionless except for the hood that twitched occasionally as the wind caught it. Reaching forward, the driver grabbed hold of the killers hood and pulled it up, looking into the face of the famed murderer.

The two stood at an angle where the man wasn't able to catch a glimpse at the face of the one who wanted him dead, but something was clearly wrong. Pure shock spread across the driver's face, "What the hell?"

Before the driver could react, the hooded figure tossed a small object towards the guards and with a swift movement, forced a knife seemingly pulled out of nowhere into his windpipe and out the base of his skull. The driver made a gagging sound and with a sharp twist and pull of the knife, the hooded figure beheaded the driver. Blood spurted everywhere, down the front of the driver and on to the killer.

There was a shout of surprise and moments after the driver's head lolled back, hanging on by the partially severed spinal cord, the small device the hooded figure had thrown earlier went off, sending out an eerie shriek.

The man clutched his ears as the tone continued for several seconds before ceasing. When he opened his eyes and looked around he found himself disoriented and confused. The soldiers were in same state as well, stumbling around and trying shake off the dizzying feeling. They began firing blindly but their aim was off, and before they knew it, the hooded figure was upon them.

Some panicked, trying to shoot the dark clad figure but shooting their fellow guards instead. Those who still had not been shot received similar if not the exact same treatment as the driver from the hooded figure. One guard managed to swing his gun at the hooded figure, but missed as they leapt out of the way. Dropping down, the hooded figure knocked the feet right out from underneath the guard and without hesitation, stomped in his skull with the heel of their boot.

Once the chaos subsided and the man managed to stop his head from spinning, he looked around and saw that all the guards lay dead on the ground. Some filled with holes and others grotesquely wounded. Stepping almost delicately over them, the hooded figure made their way over to where the man lay on the tarmac, still slightly disoriented and bleeding heavily.

Crouching next to the man, the hooded figure slapped his face forcefully, causing him to reel back and eventually focus on the shadow before him. With one swift motion, the hood was removed and the killers face was revealed - cold eyes and a cheshire smile splattered in blood. The man's eyes widened in terror and shock and before he had a chance to scream out, the killer put a bullet through his brain.

Once the gunshot echo faded off into the distance, the killer stood up. With a sigh, they stood, pulling the hood back up to cover their face. Pulling out a cellphone from their pocket, the hooded figure took a picture of the dead man and sent it to a blocked number. After a few moments, the cell rang and the killer answered.

 _"You're late."_

"My apologies sir, he put up a pointless fight," the hooded figure replied.

 _"No matter…"_

"My next job, sir?"

 _"Negative."_

"Sir…?" the hooded figure said, starting to stroll calmly over to the SUV.

 _"As of now, I have no other jobs for you."_

The hooded figure cut the gas line to the SUV, gasoline pouring out on to the pavement. Standing, the figure insisted, "Sir, are you sure?"

 _"Take a vacation."_

"But-..."

 _"I hear London is nice this time of year."_

"Yes, sir."

The hooded figure hung up. They pocketed their phone and grabbed the nearest body, dragging it over to the SUV and dumping it in the steadily growing pool of gasoline, doing the same thing with each body until they were all piled sloppily next to the SUV. Observing their work, the hooded figure decided it was good enough and pulled out a lighter. They lit it and tossed it on to the pile, the gasoline igniting immediately and catching the pile of corpses on fire.

Walking over and kneeling next to the squat man, the killer rummaged through the dead man's pockets. They pulled out a wallet and a pack of cigarettes. Tossing the cigarettes on to the now brightly blazing fire, they began leafing through the man's wallet. A credit card, passport, and about three hundred dollars cash. Pocketing the cash, the figure tossed the wallet and passports on to the fire along with the cigarettes.

Content with their work, the figure started walking away from the scene, pulling out their phone once more. They dialed a number and put the phone to their ear. A lady picked up the phone and greeted the figure with a pleasant voice.

"Yes, hello…" the figure replied, "I'd like to reserve a seat on the next flight to London."

The figure fell silent as the lady on the other end spoke.

"Tomorrow morning?" the figure stated, "Perfect."

As the figure gave their details for the flight they disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving the fire blazing into the night, sirens heard faintly in the distance.


End file.
